


Complicated Neighbors

by oschun



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Past Drug Use, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 02:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12901776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oschun/pseuds/oschun
Summary: Jensen is happy with his simple life until a new neighbor complicates things.





	Complicated Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> For sensitive readers, Jared's characterization in this is shaped by demon blood Sam. There are references to past drug abuse and self-destructive sexual behavior.

“Can I give you a hand with those?” Jensen asks, watching the guy he's addressing try to balance a teetering tower of boxes in his arms that he’s unloaded from a SUV. 

It’s a very ordinary question, just a friendly offer of assistance, the kind of thing people say to each other every day. It really shouldn’t elicit the response that it does. A neighborly offer of help doesn’t normally warrant wary hostility, and this guy is suddenly bristling with it, his body language defensive and expression mistrustful.    

Jensen looks closer at him. He’s tall and obviously well built, has longish hair, is strikingly good looking, but has a tired, pale appearance, like maybe he’s just recovered from an illness.

“No, I’ve got it," the guy replies abruptly. "Thank you.” The politeness is an after-thought, calculated to cut off any further communication. And just in case Jensen hasn’t got the message, the verbal rebuff is reinforced by the guy turning his back on him as he heads down the hill towards Driftwood Cottage.

“Suit yourself,” Jensen replies, mostly to himself, and walks back to his own place next door.

Driftwood Cottage has been standing vacant for six months after Carl, the previous owner, moved to Florida to live with his daughter and her family. Carl and Jensen had been friendly, despite the twenty-year age difference between them, had done some fishing together, shared a love of boats and the ocean. Jensen was pleased when he’d heard somebody was moving in. It seemed a pity to see the house standing open for so long. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“So much for being neighborly,” he says to Brutus, who is splayed out in an ungainly heap on the kitchen floor. The dog makes a grunting noise of agreement and rolls on his back to bare his belly for a scratch. His jowls flap open, revealing his teeth in a wide, canine grin.

Jensen scratches his belly and opens a beer. “I don’t think our new neighbor is going to be coming over for a beer anytime soon, Brutey.”

 

The next weekend Mark and Misha come over for a cookout and to watch the game.

“Well _goddamn_ ,” Mark whistles appreciatively, watching the guy who’d moved into Driftwood Cottage run along the beach, “that’s a serious set of abs. Can we invite him over for some of that meat you’re cremating there, Jensen? There’s plenty of hot sausage to go around.” He leers lewdly.

Jensen rolls his eyes, leaves the grill and leans next to Mark against the wooden railing of the porch overlooking the sea. Driftwood guy is running shirtless in the mid-afternoon heat, a strong and relentless pace, long legs eating up the distance.

“Don’t bother. I think he’s a hermit or something. He hardly ever goes out, except to run or swim, and hasn’t had a single person over in the week he’s been next door. I tried to help him move in, but he was pretty definite about saying no.”

Misha, holding some sort of fruity cocktail with an umbrella in it, joins them in watching the runner on the beach. “How interesting. A mystery man. Maybe he’s escaping a troubled past and doesn’t want anybody to know he’s hiding out here.”

Mark snorts at Misha’s romanticism. “Or maybe he’s just immune to golden boy’s charms. Not everybody is bowled over by Jensen at first glance.”

“I offered to give him a hand carrying some boxes, not give him a hand job.”

“Sometimes the way a man offers to carry a box sounds like he’s saying I’d like to have your dick in my hand.”

Misha sides with Jensen and says, “Mark’s just jealous because you’re better looking than he is and because people really are bowled over by you at first glance. You should invite mystery man over. See if he’s gay. A hot affair with a sexy young neighbor is just what you need.”

Mark nods in agreement. “You do need to get back on the horse, proverbially speaking, cowboy. You’ve been single for way too long, and that racehorse down there looks ready for some breaking in. You can’t spend the rest of your life with just that ugly mutt of yours for company.”

“The two of you are a pain in the ass. I don’t even know why I invite you over. Let’s just eat before the game starts,” Jensen responds, ignoring his friends’ match-making, the way he usually does. He enjoys his own company and feels too jaded by past experiences to care about whether he ends up with Brutus as a life companion. Brutus might be ugly and smelly but at least he’s loyal and uncomplicated. Jensen sneaks him a sausage under the table when Mark and Misha aren’t watching and puts the hot new neighbor out of his mind.

 

Jared runs until his body is filled with fire, on and on and on, until he finally can’t anymore, when his muscles and lungs are burned out, when the anger and guilt and hurt can no longer fuel the fire that allows him to push himself beyond the limits of his physical endurance. He collapses on the beach, his face mashed into the sand, sucking in air, tears and sweat streaming down his face.

He lies there until he can breathe again, then rolls on his back and looks up at the stars appearing in the darkening sky. The sand is still warm beneath him from the heat of the sun, the sweat on his skin cooling in the evening breeze. His mind is empty, blessedly so. He lies there until he imagines his body turning into thousands of grains of sand, trickling away into the infinite number of grains that make up the beach, disappearing into nothingness, his mind liberated from the boundaries of his body and drifting into the great emptiness of sky above him.

Eventually he’s forced back into awareness by the cooling breeze and his aching muscles. He heaves himself up, sways slightly before he can make his body work again, and walks slowly back to the cottage like an old man. He pauses for a minute underneath the neighbor’s balcony. They’re watching a game of football. They sound happy and normal. Jared envies them. 

 

Jensen is lying on the couch reading when there’s a knock on his door two nights later. Brutus gets up from where he’s been sleeping at Jensen’s feet and growls low in his throat.

“It’s okay, boy, burglars don’t normally knock on the door. Why aren’t you outside guarding the house in the first place?” Brutus gives him an affronted look at the suggestion that he should be out in the dark instead of lazing on the couch.

When he pulls open the door, Jensen’s surprised to see the guy from next door. “Hi, can I help you?” he asks, trying not to sound too friendly, the memory of their first encounter fresh in his mind.

“Hi, I’m Jared, your, uh, neighbor.”

“Yeah, I remember. I’m Jensen. Did you move in okay?”

Jared nods briefly. “Sorry to interrupt you like this, but the lights have tripped in the cottage and I can’t find the fuse box. I’ve looked everywhere. Do you know where it is? Or have you got a candle or something I could borrow please because I’ve got nothing over there.”

Jensen softens in response to his careful politeness. “I’m not surprised you couldn’t find the box. It’s under the house, underneath the porch. I’ll show you.” He pulls on his shoes and tries to find a flashlight in the kitchen cabinet.

Brutus sits in front of Jared on the door step and starts whining for attention. Jensen is about to pull him back inside when Jared goes down on his knees and rubs his ears, talking softly to him. Before Jensen can warn him not to get too close because he can be unpredictable, Brutus licks Jared in the face and then tucks his big head into Jared’s shoulder. The Brutus cuddle. It’s something he only ever does to Jensen.

Jensen watches in surprise. He’s never seen his grumpy dog behave like this with anyone else. Brutus has known Mark and Misha for years, but he still likes to nip one of them occasionally when they’re not expecting it. He has a particular fondness for Misha’s ankles.    

Jared looks up at Jensen and smiles. It transforms his face. “What a great dog.”

Jensen snorts. “He’s ugly and lazy and bad tempered, farts all the time, eats my shoes and bites my friends. He’s a terrible dog.”

Jared smiles again. “He’s got personality.”

Jensen pushes Brutus back inside and closes the door. “He’s got to have personality because he has no other redeeming qualities. He’s not normally that friendly with new people.”

“I’m good with dogs.” Jared looks at Jensen through his bangs. “Not always with people. Sorry if I was abrupt the day I moved in.”

“It’s okay,” Jensen accepts the apology. They walk over to Driftwood mostly in silence. Jensen tries to make small talk, but he gets the feeling that for some reason he makes Jared uncomfortable.

They find the fuse box and turn the lights back on.

“You should get an electrician out to have a look at it. The wiring in this old place has always been faulty.”

“Thanks, I will.”

They stand around awkwardly. Eventually, Jensen says, “Do you want to invite me in for a beer or something. It’s the neighborly thing to do.” He’s curious about his mysterious neighbor.

“I don’t have any beer.”

“Okay,” Jensen says curtly and turns to leave.

“Would you settle for a diet coke?”

The offer seems genuine enough so Jensen nods and follows Jared when he leads him inside. Carl’s furniture is still in the house, so it looks pretty much as Jensen remembers it. Except for one thing. The open plan living area is now filled with paintings. Some look complete, others are half finished and there are stacks of blank canvasses against the walls. “Are these all yours?” he asks, walking around and looking.

“Yes.”

“They’re good. You’re really talented”

And it’s true. Jensen doesn’t know much about art, but he can recognize talent when he sees it. There’s almost no color anywhere, just stark black and white paint, mostly portraits and figurative studies. He pauses in front of a self-portrait, Jared’s face recognizable, the monochrome suggestive of shifting light and shadow. The outlines of the face are loose, thin dribbles of black paint disappearing off the edges of the canvas as if the portrait is still in the process of being created or almost deconstructing itself. It’s unsettling. There’s anger in the paint.  

Jared passes him a can of coke. “I’m preparing for an exhibition at the end of the month,” he says.

Jensen takes a swig from the can, then notices a canvas on an easel in front of the glass sliding doors that lead out on to the balcony. It’s a seascape, mostly black and white, hues of grey, smudges of pale blue. It manages to capture everything about the view of the ocean on a cold day that Jensen loves and that makes him stand and stare at it for hours from his porch. He’s never wanted to own anything as much he suddenly wants this painting.

“It’s unfinished,” Jared says next to him.

“It’s incredibly beautiful,” Jensen replies simply.

“Thank you.”

Jared gestures towards the couch. “Do you want to sit down.” Carl was never big on furniture so it’s the only place to sit in the room, Jensen on one end and Jared on the other. There’s another awkward silence.

“So, you’re here to paint?” Jensen asks.

“Yes, I like the solitude.” Jared combs his fingers through his hair and Jensen glances at the bulge of his bicep through his thin t-shirt, doesn’t realize he’s doing it, until Jared notices him looking and drops his hand into his lap.

For a fraction of a second there’s a flare of heat between them, then Jared looks away and hardens his expression.

 _Definitely gay_ , Jensen thinks. _But also, definitely not interested._

“The beach is great for running. I’ve seen you out there.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why don’t you take Brutus with you some time. He’s getting fat.”

Jared smiles. “I’d like that. It’s good to run with a dog. He looks strong, not fat.”

Jensen takes another sip of the coke and puts it on a side table, only half drunk. He stands up. He’s feeling uncomfortable, as if he’d forced Jared to invite him in. “I should get back. Brutus worries if I’m away for too long.”

Jared gets to his feet. “I can take him out with me tomorrow morning if you like.”

“Okay,” Jensen replies, surprised by the definite offer. “If he loses interest or gets tired he’ll just come back to my place, so don’t worry about losing him on the beach. He knows his way around. He’s pretty free range.”

“Thanks for your help tonight.”

“No problem. What are neighbors for, right?”

 

Jared arrives early the next morning. He’s wearing just a pair of shorts and old sneakers, leaving a lot of distracting skin and muscle on show. The sight of him makes Jensen choke a little and spill his morning coffee, but luckily Brutus seems to know he’s going out and his excited barking covers for Jensen’s clumsiness.

 _Pull it together, Ackles_ , Jensen tells himself. _It’s not like you haven’t seen a half-naked man in your kitchen before._

Jared leaves with Brutus, and Jensen goes downstairs to the workshop which takes up the whole of the ground floor of his two-storey beach house. He’s building a wooden hulled sailboat by hand for a wealthy European buyer.

He’s lost in the work when Brutus comes bounding in a couple of hours later and collapses in a panting heap on the floor. Jared stands at the entrance of the sliding doors looking in. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat and wet strands of hair stick to his neck. Jensen puts down the sanding block in his hand on the table behind him and grins at Brutus’s exhaustion. “Looks like you gave him a proper workout.”

Jared is looking with awe at the frame of the hull sitting upside down in Jensen’s workshop. “You build boats?” he says, coming in and walking around the frame. He runs a hand over the hull, stroking its curves, the movement of his hand slow and sensual as if he’s touching something warm and alive.

Jensen’s skin prickles in response. He clears his throat and quickly says, “Yeah.” He's trying not to stare at Jared's half-bare body, the perfect arrangement of muscle and bone, trying not to imagine running his own hand over those hard planes and smooth curves. 

Absorbed in his inspection of the hull and unaware of Jensen’s scrutiny, Jared continues stroking the smooth planes of wood, his eyes roaming over the frame’s construction. “What kind of wood is it?”

“Western red cedar. It’s light and strong and doesn’t need a lot maintenance.”   

“It’s beautiful,” Jared replies, his eyes alight with admiration.

“Tell you what, I’d trade it for that seascape you’re working on.”

Jared laughs, free and open, the first time Jensen has seen him react without reservation. “A painting for a boat? That’s not exactly a fair trade, Jensen, and I’ve got a feeling this will be worth a whole lot more than one of my pieces.”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen the price tag on some paintings in fancy galleries that are double what this baby will sell for.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” Jared says dryly. “But I’m not famous enough or dead enough to be selling my work at that kind of price.”

Brutus starts whining. “He’s thirsty. Do you want to come upstairs and have something to drink?”

The wariness returns to Jared’s expression.

“I was going to make a sandwich for lunch,” Jensen continues. “The least I can do is give you something to eat and drink for keeping Brutus out from under my feet while I’m working.”

He watches the changes in Jared’s expression. His reluctance to accept a simple overture of friendliness is weird. Jensen can’t figure out what might be behind it.

“Okay, thanks,” Jared says eventually.

They go upstairs and Jensen fills Brutus’s water bowl. His noisy slurping, grunting, slobbering and slopping of water all over the floor, makes Jensen smile wryly. “Sorry. He’s got terrible manners.”

Jared watches Brutus with amusement. “He’s got great heart. He ran hard, and he really doesn’t like to give in. Thanks,” he says when Jensen passes him a glass of cold water from the fridge.

Jensen watches Jared’s throat work as he swallows thirstily. A drop of water trails down his neck, down his chest towards his nipple. Jensen decides it’s really more than he can deal with. He picks up a clean t-shirt from a laundry hamper on the kitchen counter. “Here,” he says and throws it at Jared.

Jared catches it with one hand, the glass of water in the other. He sniffs it. “I don’t think you really want me to get my sweat all over your nice clean shirt.”

There’s an undertone in his voice that Jensen responds to. “You can give it back to me after you’ve washed it. I just don’t think I can concentrate anymore on trying to make conversation when you’re basically half naked.” He waits to see how Jared will react to the open flirtation.

It’s not what he's expecting.

Jared looks back at him, his gaze steady. His eyes drop, and he looks down the length of Jensen’s body, running over his worn t-shirt and ripped jeans. He looks back up at Jensen’s face for a few moments. “So, what am I supposed to do? Imagine a paper bag over your head?”

Jensen’s heart starts beating faster.

Suddenly, Jared’s expression changes. He turns away and carefully places the water glass on the counter, then pulls the t-shirt over his head. When he turns and faces Jensen again, his jaw is set. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Look, I can’t do this with you.”     

“Okay,” Jensen replies quietly, waiting for an explanation.

Jared chews his bottom lip and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m a mess right now. I’m not looking for a quick lay and I can’t get involved with anyone. I came here to get away from everything. This is a complication I really don’t need.”

“Okay,” Jensen says amenably and reaches for the loaf of bread on the shelf above him. “What do you want on your sandwich?”

“What?”

Jensen faces him. “I said okay. It’s a complication you don’t need right now, so let’s not make it complicated. Ham or cheese or both?”

“Just like that?” Jared asks warily.

“Yeah, just like that. I’m attracted to you, sure, but if you’re not interested, it’s not a problem for me. I’m not looking for complicated either.” He starts buttering the bread. “Anyway, Brutus is giving you a funny look like he’s about to start chewing on your ankle, so let’s not make him jealous.”

Brutus is standing at his water bowl watching Jared with sudden suspicion.

“It’s okay, Brutey, he’s still a friend,” Jensen reassures him. Brutus looks unsure until Jensen throws him a chunk of ham. “He reacts like that when people talk to me in certain tones of voice.”

“You’re lucky to have that kind of loyalty.”

“Yeah, it’s something you only get from a dog,” Jensen replies cynically.

Jared murmurs an agreement, a hard edge to the sound, weighted with meaning.

Jensen pulls two beers out of the fridge, opens them and passes one to Jared. “To loyal dogs and uncomplicated neighbors.”

Jared looks at him closely for a few seconds, then half smiles and nods. He puts the beer down. “I don’t drink alcohol.” He picks up the glass of water and repeats Jensen’s toast, “To loyal dogs and uncomplicated neighbors.”

They have lunch outside and the conversation is mostly easy and open. Jensen talks about his boat building and Jared talks about his painting. They stand at the porch railing and Jensen points out landmarks and talks about the area. Jared’s cagey when Jensen asks anything about where he’s from so he avoids the topic and sticks to neutral subjects. Jensen has a second beer and decides not to do any more work today. The benefits of working for yourself. Jared seems in no hurry to leave. It’s a pleasant, lazy way to spend an afternoon. Jared eventually leaves, and Jensen goes fishing with Brutus.

 

They fall into a casual routine. Jared comes over in the morning and takes Brutus for a run. He often stays and has breakfast or lunch with Jensen if he’s been out with Brutus for a long time. They quickly establish a natural, easy rapport. There’s some teasing banter between them that they are both careful to keep just this side of flirtation.

But sometimes Jared comes over and he’s quiet and withdrawn, dark rings around his eyes like he hasn’t slept the night before, and then Jensen is very careful around him, gives him space and doesn’t ask him how he’s feeling. Jared clearly has demons in his past that keep him up at night and that he doesn’t want to discuss. Jensen isn’t big on talking out his own feelings either and respects the boundaries Jared places around his privacy.

A couple of time Brutus comes back on his own after a run, exhausted and sore-footed because he hasn’t been able to keep up with Jared’s punishing pace, and then Jensen has to give him extra attention and special doggy treats. He mopes around all day like he’s caught Jared’s bad mood. For a grumpy, selfish dog, he’s actually very sensitive.

 

One hot Saturday Mark and Misha come for a cookout and Jensen invites Jared over.

“So, you’re really just friends? You’re sticking to that?” Mark asks as he expertly guts a red snapper Jensen caught earlier. He looks at Jared standing outside at the grill with Misha. “Friendship is over-rated, if you ask me, with a guy who looks like that.”

“Shut up, Mark. Jesus Christ, you’re relentless.”

Mark pulls an elaborate face of mock prudishness. “Don’t blaspheme like that, Jenny, it hurts my choir-boy ears.”

Jensen mimics his expression. “You? In a choir? That’s a blasphemy in itself.”

Mark places slices of lemon and fronds of dill over the fish and wraps it in aluminium foil. “I actually did sing in the church choir. I had a beautiful singing voice in my younger years.”

Jensen smirks. “You mean you wanted to corrupt all those other innocent choir boys.” He places the red snapper on a tray loaded with plates, cutlery, salads and breads.

He should be expecting it, having known Mark for as long as he has, but he still almost trips and drops the tray on his way outside when Mark says, “Actually, I heard the priest was giving out free lessons on how to suck dick after choir practice so thought I’d get some early experience from a man who really understood the sins of the flesh.”

Because he didn’t catch Mark’s crude remark, Jared raises his eyebrows questioningly at Jensen’s clumsiness and stifled laughter.

Misha sees Mark’s evil grin and says, “Don’t even ask, Jared. You probably don’t want to know.”

Jensen places the tray carefully on the table. “The stuff that comes out of your mouth, Pellegrino. And the worst thing is that I know it’s probably a true childhood story.”

“I’m the bad-influence kid that the other kids didn’t want to introduce to their moms when we were young,” Mark says to Jared and gives him a roguish wink.

“I can see that about you,” Jared replies, smiling.

Misha responds, “Surprisingly, that’s not actually true. My mother has always loved you, Mark, even though you were such a bad influence on me.”

“That’s because your mom likes bad boys. And I should know.” 

Jensen places the red snapper on the grill. “Mark is the guy who gave both of us our first cigarette, our first beer, our first joint—”

“Introduced us to porn, back when it was still on videotape.”

“Got us into a bar fight that time.”

“And arrested that other time.”

“Basically, he’s the devil,” Jensen concludes.

“How long have the three of you known each other?”

Jensen says, “Too long.”

Mark sits down at the table and starts rolling a joint. “Get your guitar out, Jensen. Sing us a song about summer and pickup trucks and boys in tight jeans.” Jensen notices how Jared’s body language changes as he watches Mark light the joint. He catches Jared’s eye and smiles, a question in the raising of his eyebrows.

Jared visibly relaxes, and he smiles back. “You sing too. Is there no end to your talents?”   

“I’m not very good.”

“That’s a lie,” Misha contradicts. “He’s been in bands that were good enough to go professional. Jensen has a great voice.”

Mark says, “C’mon, Jen, admit it, how many times have you been laid because you stood under the spotlight and sang a sad song about being a little bit lonely.” He offers the joint to Jared, who shakes his head.

Misha takes it instead and puffs perfect round smoke rings upwards. “You did have a lot of adoring groupies.”

“You had groupies?” Jared laughs. “I think I need to hear this magical voice that got you laid so often.”

Jensen sighs. “I’m not that good, and I never had groupies, and I didn’t get laid that often.” He goes inside to get his guitar. Misha says something that he doesn’t hear. It makes Mark and Jared laugh, and Jensen knows it’s at his expense.    

“Can somebody watch that the fish doesn’t burn,” he says when he comes back out again and starts tuning his guitar. Brutus lies down next to him, the way he always does when Jensen plays.

“I’m on it,” Mark says, moving the fish off the direct heat. “Play us something sexy.”

Jensen grins and starts loudly strumming and singing ‘You Sexy Thing’ in an exaggerated voice. Misha joins in in a high falsetto and includes some silly dance moves. Mark sings in a low droning bass, totally contradicting his earlier assertion.

Jared laughs at them but doesn’t join in.

Jensen tunes his guitar again and starts quietly playing the first cords of an old folk song that he learned when he first moved to the coast, when he bought this house and started building boats with his own bare hands. He hums a few bars, trying to remember the lyrics, hits a couple of bum notes, corrects himself and then starts to sing.

It’s a song about love and fear. It’s a newly married bride addressing the fisherman she’s married who is out at sea during a powerful storm. She’s watching at the window of their cottage and waiting for him. She tries to send the song out to him as a beacon of her love to bring him home. It’s a sweet, simple song that is filled with longing.

He gets to the end of it and looks across at Jared, who is watching him with absorbed concentration.

“That would definitely get you laid,” Jared says quietly.       

Jensen doesn’t see the knowing look that passes between Misha and Mark. He smiles, his face warm with embarrassment. “Yeah, well, it’s a total exaggeration that I had groupies. We should eat.” He gets up and joins them at the table.

The rest of the evening passes in a cheerful blur. The food is good and the conversation easy. Jared leaves after midnight. Mark and Misha stay over. Mark wins a coin toss and gets the spare bedroom. Misha gets the couch and a snoring dog.

As Jensen switches off the lights downstairs, Misha says quietly to him from the couch, “Be careful with him, Jensen.”

Jensen pauses in the doorway. “What do you mean?”

“I just think you should be careful. There’s something emotionally fragile about him. There’s a story behind why he’s hiding out here.”

“I know,” Jensen agrees. “I am being careful. I like him a lot. We’re just friends. It’s not a big deal.”

Misha makes a non-committal noise that suggests he doesn't believe him. Jensen ignores it. “Good night. Kick Brutus off if he tries to get on the couch with you.”

“There’s no way that bear of a dog is sharing this couch with me."

 

Jared goes to bed feeling more relaxed than he has in months.

But despite his sense of contentment, the dream still haunts him when he sleeps.

It’s the same dream. Always the same dream. He’s having sex. He doesn’t know who with. There’s more than one. Just faceless bodies. There’s a cock in his ass and another in his mouth. He’s high, the heroin sliding through his veins like liquid gold. Somebody is cutting him, and the release of blood is like an orgasm. Then he’s the one cutting through skin into flesh, licking, then sucking, then drinking from the wound. He’s so thirsty. It’s thick and warm, coats the inside of his mouth, fills his stomach. But it’s never enough. He drinks and drinks, and the more he does, the more the golden high recedes. He can’t hold onto it. He drinks until he feels the body withering, until it’s nothing but bones and parchment dry skin, and finally just dust, and his mouth is full of it, choking him.

He wakes up unable to breathe, his heart jackhammering in his chest.

The dream recedes but not the awful sense of it. He gets up, abandoning the idea of getting back to sleep, and tries to paint, but knows he’s just wasting canvas. His hands are shaking.

He goes outside and walks down to the beach, strips off his clothes and wades out into the waves. It’s cold. He swims hard, keeps going until he’s exhausted. The beach is distantly pale in the moonlight when he looks back at the shore.

He treads water, considers just letting go, sinking down into the oblivion below him.

But he can’t do it. He starts swimming back, aiming for the one clear light he can see ahead of him. He realizes it’s Jensen’s porch light. When he drags himself out of the water, he’s struck by the feeling that he’s like the fisherman in the song returning home after almost being lost at sea.

 

The next morning Jensen comes downstairs to find Misha sleeping on the floor and Brutus snoring contentedly on the couch. He grins and goes into the kitchen to switch the kettle on. Misha comes in a few minutes later, his hair sleep tousled.

“I see Brutus won the battle for the couch.”

“I tried, but eventually had to concede defeat. The better man won. Can I use your laptop?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jensen replies. “Why?”

“I want to look something up that I’d like to talk to you about.”

When he doesn’t say any more, Jensen says, “Are you going to explain that or just speak in cryptic riddles?”

“I want to check it before I say anything to you.”

Jensen shrugs. “It’s on the bookshelf in the living room. Do you want some coffee?”

Misha’s already gone back into the other room and doesn’t hear him. Jensen starts preparing breakfast. He can hear Mark showering upstairs. He takes Misha a mug of coffee in the living room.

Misha’s sitting at Jensen’s desk with the laptop in front of him. He’s reading an online news article.  Jensen looks over his shoulder at a photograph of some guy included in the article. There’s something familiar about his face.

“Who’s that?”

Misha doesn’t turn around. “Jared’s father.”

“What?” Jensen asks in surprise.

Misha gets up and takes the laptop over to the couch. “Come and look at this." His expression is thoughtful. "Get off, Brutus,” he says in such a commanding voice that Brutus has no choice but to comply.

Jensen sits down next to him on the couch and looks at the laptop screen.

“I had this feeling the whole day yesterday that Jared looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him, and then I drank beer and got stoned, so I forgot about it. I woke up to have a pee in the middle of the night and it popped into my head where I’d seen him before.”

Jensen looks closer at the article. “Isn’t he that TV guy?”

“Yes, he’s an ex-marine, hunter-adventurer type with his own show on the Outdoor Channel.”

“That’s Jared’s dad? How do you know that?”

“Well, because there’s this.” Misha opens another article. Another photograph. Its Jared. He’s being led away in handcuffs by a cop after being arrested outside a nightclub. It’s the kind of photograph you see all the time in the news, unknown people in moments that mean nothing to you as casual viewer. The headline reads: _TV Adventurer’s Son Arrested in Drug Raid._

Jensen says, “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Misha replies. “It says he’d been caught before. He was released on the condition that he enrolled in a residential drug progam.”

Jensen expels a deep breath. “Well, that explains why he doesn’t drink and why he looked antsy yesterday when Mark was rolling a joint.”

Misha nods.

“I don’t want to look at it, Misha. I feel like I’m invading his privacy.”

“Yeah,” Misha agrees again and puts the laptop on the coffee table. “What are you going to do? Are you going to tell him you know?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. Jesus, I’ve only just got to the stage with him where I don’t think he’s going to walk out of the room if I ask him a question about something.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t made the connection.”

“No, that’s okay. It’s not your fault.

They hear Mark coming down the stairs. Jensen shuts the laptop. “Don’t say anything to Mark.”

Misha nods. “I don’t think you should keep it from Jared that you know, though.”

Jensen nods distractedly and goes back into the kitchen to finish cooking breakfast.

 

A few days later Jared’s sitting at Jensen’s kitchen table after coming back with Brutus from a run. He’s reading the newspaper. Jensen’s making coffee.

Jared’s wearing a faded old tank top. He hasn’t run shirtless since that first day. From behind him, unobserved, Jensen can see the scars on his back. He's wondered about them before. They’re thin faded lines criss-crossing Jared’s skin. They look like somebody purposefully traced them on him like some sort of roadmap on his skin.

Jensen’s not thinking, just acting unconsciously, when he reaches out and runs a light finger over one of the pale lines.

Jared shivers at his touch, then stiffens and grips the newspaper tightly.

Embarrassed, Jensen says quickly, “Shit, I’m sorry.” He sits down at the table and faces Jared. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Hoping Jared will just ignore his blunder and they can pretend it didn’t happen, he looks away and pours some orange juice from the carton on the table into a glass. “Are you done with the sports section?”

“Aren’t you going to ask?” Jared looks at him, his expression neutral.

“It’s none of my business. I’m sorry.”

“I used to let guys cut me.”

Jensen looks back at him silently.

“During sex.”

Jensen draws in a quiet breath.

“I used to ask them to do it. It gave me a feeling of release. It felt better than coming.”

They look at each other. Jensen knows it’s his move, but he’s not quite sure how to react or what to say. “Okay. Do you—I mean, is it—is it because you like being hurt, do you get off on it?”

“No, not really. I wanted to be punished. I felt I deserved the pain. The sex was a kind of punishment too.”

Jensen asks carefully, “Why did you think you deserved to be punished?”

“Because I thought I was weak and a failure.”

“Do you still do it?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t need it anymore.”

The thought of somebody purposefully hurting him in that way makes Jensen angry; the thought that he would actually _want_ somebody to do that to him makes him terribly, achingly sad.

He doesn’t want to say something that will make him sound judgemental about why Jared used to feel he needed something like that, but says it anyway. “I don’t think sex should ever be about punishing yourself.”

Jared watches him steadily. “Have you ever had sex for the wrong reasons.”

Jensen doesn’t have to think about it very hard. “Yes,” he replies honestly. “I wasn’t judging your reasons for doing what you did.”

“I know you weren’t. That’s why I told you. I’m not judging you either. I was just curious.”

“I used to think sex was just about having a good time, but then I realized it wasn’t always that simple,” he says, not looking at Jared.

There’s a silence, then Jared replies, “I’m pretty sure sex with you would always be a good time, Jensen.” He gets up before Jensen can work out a response. “I need to go and do some work. Thank you for breakfast.”

Brutus, the traitor that he is, follows Jared when he leaves and doesn’t come home until the late afternoon.

 

Jensen’s birthday sneaks up on him. He forgets to organize anything with his family or his friends, and they forget too, so he’s left with nothing special to do on the day. Mark and Misha are both out of town, and he wakes up in the morning feeling slightly sorry for himself.

“Did you get me a present,” he asks Brutus when he goes down to the kitchen. Brutus jumps up and gives him the gift of dog-breath face licking as he does every morning.

“I need to teach you how to make me breakfast in bed. You really need to start earning your keep around here, Brutus. I work all the time to keep you in the lap of luxury and what exactly do you do to repay me?” Brutus paws his leg and slobbers on his knee.  

Jensen makes his own breakfast, bacon and eggs because it’s his birthday.

He’s sitting outside playing his guitar afterwards when he gets a message from Jack on his phone.

Jack was never anything serious. They fucked occasionally, were better friends than lovers, hung out together at a time when they were both between other things.

Jack’s just split up with the guy he’s been seeing and is messaging Jensen to find out if he wants to spend the day getting drunk with him. Jensen pauses before he replies, realizes he’s been waiting for Jared to come over, then realizes how pathetic that is and replies with: _Where and when?_

It goes the way he knew it would go. They move from bar to bar, drinking and playing pool. Jack is self-absorbed, but fun, drinking fast and hard, on edge because he actually felt something for the guy who walked out on him. Jensen doesn’t tell him it’s his birthday, and lets Jack pretend that breaking up with his boyfriend was his idea and that he’s better off without him in his life.

Of course they inevitably end up drunk and naked on Jensen’s couch.

“I always loved the shape of your dick, Jensen.” 

Jensen watches Jack lick a drop of pre-come from the head of his cock before going down on him again. Jack gives good head. Jensen’s already close and is about to warn him he’s going to come when Jared suddenly walks into the room carrying a wrapped, square parcel under his arm.

It’s an almost comically suspended moment in time: Jack’s unaware of Jared’s presence behind him and carries on blowing Jensen; Jensen is on the knife edge of orgasm; and Jared’s frozen in the doorway, taking a moment to fully realize what he’s walked in on.

It’s the shift in Jared’s expression from surprise to heated realization--his eyes hooded and intent--that tips Jensen off the edge and makes him come without warning in Jack’s mouth.

When he opens his eyes afterwards, Jared has disappeared from the doorway.

“Jesus, warn a guy next time.” Jack wipes his hand across his mouth.

Embarrassed, Jensen apologizes profusely.  “Shit, I’m sorry. It just hit me so suddenly.”

Jack smiles. “Probably because I’m so great at giving head. It’s not a big deal. The least I can do is swallow when you’ve tolerated my moping all day.”

They shower and then watch a movie together. Brutus lies on the porch outside, occasionally giving them murderous glances through the glass sliding doors. Jensen doesn’t let him in because he knows Brutus will bite Jack. He’s never liked him. He doesn’t bite hard but he’s really good at just nipping the skin with his canines. He doesn’t try to do major damage, but it still hurts.

Jensen tries to concentrate on the movie and not think about Jared, but fails miserably.

Jack leaves once he’s sober enough to drive. Jensen knows he won’t see him again soon.

 

Jared doesn’t arrive the next morning to take Brutus for a run so Jensen decides by the late afternoon to go over to Driftwood and deal with the awkwardness of yesterday.

The kitchen door is open when he gets there. Jared’s at his easel painting. “Hi,” Jensen calls out from the doorway.

Jared turns around. “Hello, Jensen,” he replies, unsmiling. He puts down the paintbrush he was holding and looks at Jensen expectantly.

Jensen walks in and leans against the kitchen counter, tries to formulate in his mind what he’s going to say. Should he be the one to apologize? How would that go? _I’m really sorry you had to see my orgasm face. I’m embarrassed you now know that just one hot glance from you can make me come that fast in another guy’s mouth._

Jared talks first. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t just walk into your house like that. It’s not appropriate.”

His voice is cool and distant. It reminds Jensen of what he was like when he first moved in.

“I don’t mind you just coming in to my house. I like having somebody around who takes care of my dog the way you do.”

“So you like me being around because Brutus likes me?”

Jensen is both surprised by the comment itself and the sarcasm behind it.

“No, of course not. I like having you around because I like your company and because we’re friends.” He doesn’t say that being with Jared is often the brightest part of his day.

Jared walks into the kitchen area of the open plan living space and leans against a counter opposite Jensen. He looks at him steadily. “Is that what we are, Jensen? Are we friends?”  

Jensen suddenly feels like he’s on dangerous ground. “I'm not going to speak for you, but yes, I think of you as a friend.”

Jared continues looking coolly at him, then says, “So, is it something serious?”

“What?”

“Your relationship with the guy who was sucking your cock yesterday.”

“What?” Jensen frowns. “No, Jesus, he’s just a guy I used to know. We were drunk. His boyfriend just left him.”

“Are you in the habit of fucking all your exes after they’ve gone through a break up?”

Jensen gets angry. “So much for not being judgemental about having sex for the wrong reasons,” he says sarcastically. “Why do I have to explain myself to you? Do I get a say in who you fuck?”

“Do you want a say in who I fuck?”

Jensen’s heart starts racing. It’s suddenly so silent, he wonders if Jared can hear its loud thudding. “What are we doing here, Jared?”

“I wanted it to be me,” Jared says coolly. “I wanted it to be me sucking your cock and putting that expression on your face.”

Jensen expels a sharp breath.

“And I think you wanted that too, Jensen. You wanted it to be me making you come like that. It’s a lie that we’re just friends. You know that ‘being friends’ is not what we’ve been doing.”

Before he can reply, Jared moves closer to him, his expression softening. He reaches out and strokes Jensen’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful. I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you.” He hesitates, watching Jensen intently, then leans forward and presses his lips against Jensen’s.

Jensen closes his eyes and just stays like that for a few seconds. Jared smells like paint and warm masculinity. It feels better than he’d even imagined. He opens his mouth and lets Jared’s tongue in. Heat spreads throughout his body when Jared deepens the kiss, his tongue moving suggestively in and out of Jensen's mouth, making him moan quietly. 

Jared grips the belt holes of his jeans and pulls him closer, so they’re pressed together along the full length of their bodies. Jensen can feel him hardening. His dick twitches in response and he drops his hands to palm Jared’s ass.

When Jensen moves his hips back so he can touch Jared’s erection, Jared suddenly pushes his hand away and steps back, breathing hard. Jensen blinks at him in surprise. Jared’s cheeks are flushed, and his lips are swollen from kissing. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, moving another couple of steps backwards. He smiles slowly at Jensen. “I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time.”

Jensen grabs a handful of his t-shirt and tries to pull him back. “So why are you stopping?”

Jared loosens his fingers. “Wait a minute. I need to talk to you before this goes any further." His expression is serious. "There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jensen. I need you to hear some things you’re probably not going to like. And I want you to understand, I will totally get it if you don’t want to be involved with me when I tell you this.”

He looks so nervous that Jensen reaches out and strokes his arm.

Jared takes another step back. “I was a heroin addict."

“I know.”

Jared looks at him with open-mouthed surprise.

“Misha recognized you and showed me an article about your dad and another one about when you were arrested.”

Jared frowns. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I thought you’d tell me when you were ready. I didn’t want to push you. I was respecting your privacy.”

Jared goes and stands at the glass doors, looking out at the view. Jensen follows him and waits patiently behind him.

After a few silent minutes, Jared faces him again. “It doesn’t bother you that I used to inject that poison into my body and allow men to make me bleed and then fuck me while I was too high to even know what was happening to me?”

“Of course it bothers me, but it’s in your past, right? It's obviously not who you are right now.”

Jared clenches his jaw and nods. “I’m never going back to that again. I had to claw my way out of the black hole I’d fallen into. Rehab helped, and I still see a shrink I met while I was there.”

“You’re strong. Anybody can see that about you." Jensen pauses. "Do you want to talk about it? How did you get into that lifestyle in the first place?”

Jared stares out at the sea pensively, then goes and sits on the couch. Jensen sits down next to him, giving him some space, waiting.

“I started taking drugs when I was just a kid. It sounds like an excuse, but I was lonely. My mom died, and my dad was away all the time.”

“It doesn’t sound like an excuse. It sounds like a reason. Did your dad know about the drugs?”

“Not at first. He really wasn’t around at all when I was growing up and I’ve always had a pretty screwed up relationship with him. I felt like I let him down and didn’t grow up into the person he wanted me to be. He’s like this perfect example of a real man and I was just this dorky kid who dreamed of becoming an artist. The drugs made me feel like I was invincible for a while, like I could do anything, like I was as strong as he is. That’s the lie you tell yourself.”

“Do you see him? Your dad.”

“Yeah, it’s not like we’re completely estranged, but we’re not a big part of each other’s lives. It was embarrassing for him when my arrest got into the news.”

Jared’s hand is resting on the back of the couch and Jensen covers it with his, squeezes gently.

“Does it turn you off that I’ve fucked so many men? Most of them I can’t even remember their faces.”

Jensen thinks about it for a minute. “No, it doesn’t. And I’m no position to judge you," he says honestly. "Misha wasn’t exaggerating about the groupies. I was an asshole in my twenties. I fucked around a lot and treated my lovers with contempt. I was full of ego and vanity and bullshit. It took me years to get my head out of my ass.”

Jared remains silent for a minute, then asks in a low voice, “Do you want to go to bed?”

Jensen draws in a deep breath. “Yeah, I really do.”

Jared leads Jensen down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s neat and sparsely furnished, no personal objects anywhere. He sits on the end of the bed and asks, “Do you want to take a shower?”

“No. Do you?”

Jared shakes his head. He leans back on his elbows. “Take off your clothes.”

Jensen swallows, then strips off his t-shirt and jeans, hesitates for a moment before pulling off his briefs and stands naked in front of Jared. He’s already hard.

Jared’s eyes wander down his body. He sits up. “Come closer.”

Jensen moves forward, and Jared presses a kiss against his stomach, drops his head and gently kisses the tip of his dick. Jensen runs a hand through his hair, cradles the back of his head and pulls him forward. Jared opens his mouth and takes him in deep. Jensen tightens his hand in his hair and gets lost in heat and pleasure.

Jared pulls away and looks up at Jensen with heavy-lidded eyes. He takes off his t-shirt and lies back so Jensen can unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, then lifts up so he can pull them off him. Jensen kisses his way up his body, pausing to suck a nipple until it’s red and tightly pebbled. Jared makes low sounds of pleasure deep in his throat. He’s leaking against Jensen’s stomach.

Jensen moves up and kisses him on the mouth, a long, slow, druggingly pleasurable kiss. He eventually pulls away and leans on an elbow to look down at Jared. “I’ve got a condom in my wallet. Have you got some lube?” Jared nods, gets up and disappears into the bathroom.

He comes back and lies down again, placing the bottle of lube on his stomach. Jensen puts the condom next to it. They look at the two objects balanced on Jared’s abs silently. Jensen looks at him and smiles. “Pick one,” he says.

Jared returns the smile and counters, “No, you pick one.”

Picking both of them up, Jensen says, “Roll over.”

Jared rolls over on to his stomach and widens his legs. Jensen kisses the scars on his back, making him shiver. Goose bumps spread across his skin. He gently opens Jared up with his fingers. When he's ready, he lies next to him and pulls him back to fit him into the curve of his body so they’re both lying on their sides. He kisses Jared's ear and nuzzles into his neck. He can feel the hard, fast rhythm of Jared’s heart. Lifting his leg slightly to open him up, he pushes his hips forward and inches inside, groaning at how good it feels.

Making a choked sound of pleasure, Jared tightens his grip on Jensen’s arm where it’s wrapped around his middle and digs his nails into his skin.

They don’t last very long. Jared comes almost as soon as Jensen starts stroking his dick, and the clenching of his body sends Jensen over the edge.

Jared's expression is rueful when turns over. “Sorry. I haven’t had sex in over a year."

Jensen pushes Jared’s hair back and kisses him on the forehead. “Jesus, don’t be sorry, Jared. That was perfect.” He strokes his face and looks closely at him, the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the shadow of his beard, the small mole next to his nose, the shape of his mouth and arch of his eyebrows.

He looks into Jared’s eyes and sees that he’s examining him in the same way. “I like looking at you,” Jared says and touches his lips.

“Yeah, me too.”

Jared smiles. “Did you feed Brutus before you came over?”

“No, he’s probably pissing on my couch right now to punish me. Can I go get him? If I’m going to sleep here tonight, he’ll have to too. We’re a package deal, me and my grumpy dog.”

“Yeah, go get him.” The way Jared's smile widens shows he understands the question wasn’t actually about Brutus sleeping over.

 

Jensen brings Brutus’s mattress back with him and tries to get him to sleep in the kitchen. Brutus is utterly disdainful and takes what he thinks is his rightful place on Jared’s couch.

Jared looks at him with amused affection. “Guess I’m going to have to get used to dog hair everywhere.”

Jensen perches on the arm of the couch and rubs Brutus’s head. “I meant to ask you earlier. What was in the package you had with you yesterday?”

Jared leaves the room and brings the square package wrapped in brown paper back with him. Jensen knows what it is before he unwraps it. It’s the finished seascape. It takes his breath away. It's so evocative, captures precisely the wild and intense beauty of the ocean. It's the best gift anyone has ever given him.

“Thank you, Jared.” He kisses him and holds him closely for a minute, revelling in the feeling that he can touch him so intimately.

“So are you going to build me a boat,” Jared asks when they let go of each other.

“Building a boat is a pretty major investment. You’ve got be sure about it.”

Jared smiles at the implicit question in Jensen’s statement and replies, “I’m sure about it.”

 

That night Jared sleeps in Jensen’s arms and doesn’t have any nightmares.

 

THE END


End file.
